Come all ye true hearts, who, Old… Now shoulder the musket, or plough… I will sing you a song of a wonder… Who has ruin’d Jack Pudding, and… Derry down, down, high derry down.

I. 1. Many there be, who, through the va… With velvet pace, unnoticed, softl… While jarring discord’s inharmonio… Awakes them not to woe.

Sad solitary Thought, who keep’st… Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man… Communing lonely with his sinking… And musing on the dubious glooms t… In dim obscurity before him,-thee,

‘In Heaven we shall be purified,… Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake, Retune thy strings for Jesus’ sak… We sing the Saviour of our race, The Lamb, our shield, and hiding-…

Mild offspring of a dark and sulle… Whose modest form, so delicately f… Was nursed in whirling storms And cradled in the winds; Thee, when young Spring first que…

Thy judgments, Lord, are just; th… The face of pity and of love divin… But mine is guilt-thou must not, c… While heaven is true, and equity i… Yes, oh my God!-such crimes as mi…

Oh, Warton! to thy soothing shell… Stretch’d remote in hermit cell, Where the brook runs babbling by, For ever I could listening lie; And catching all the muses’ fire,

Gently, most gently on thy victim’… Consumption, lay thine hand! Let… Like the expiring lamp, unseen, aw… And softly go to slumber with the… And if it is true what holy men ha…

Ill-fated maid, in whose unhappy t… Chill poverty and misery are seen, Anguish and discontent, the unhapp… Of life, and blackener of each bri… Why to thy votaries dost thou give…

Loud rage the winds without.-The… O’er the cold northstar casts her… And Silence, pausing in some snow… Starts as she hears, by fits, the… Where now, shut out from every sti…

It is not that my lot is low, That bids this silent tear to flow… It is not grief that bids me moan; It is that I am all alone. In woods and glens I love to roam…

Lofft, unto thee one tributary son… The simple Muse, admiring, fain w… She longs to lisp thee to the list… And with thy name to bid the woodl… Fain would she blazon all thy virt…

You bid me, Ned, describe the pla… Where I, one of the rhyming race, Pursue my studies con amore, And wanton with the muse in glory. Well, figure to your senses straig…

Quick o’er the wintry waste dart f… Bleak blows the blast-now howls—th… And oft upon its awful wings it wa… The dying wanderer’s distant, feeb… Now, when athwart the gloom gaunt…

Emblem of life! see changeful Apr… In varying vest along the shadowy… Now bidding summer’s softest zephy… Anon recalling winter’s stormy gal… And pouring from the cloud her sud…